While most Americans were enjoying a long holiday weekend and many were eating some cookout cuisine fresh off the grill getting ready to watch a firework show last Sunday, I was in a hospital room finishing my wife’s dry and overcooked chicken sandwich that she’d abandoned.

None of that mattered, though. 

Because she had just given birth to our son, Bishop Robert Bennett, and they both lay there resting and I watched them, realizing that our world had changed. 

It’s a strange thing, bringing in another man to my family. I was the last one. And while I was so ecstatic to have my daughter three years ago, and would have been excited to have one again, there’s a different relationship between a father and his son. 

So to my son, I want to say:

Dear Bishop,

You are beautiful. 

You came into the world on the day of our nation’s birth, and I hope you will embrace the things that make it wonderful, and work hard to improve the things that it lacks.

I hope you will learn how to walk in the world in various ways, with a mind made for the city, but a heart rooted in the country.

I hope that you will fight for the underdog and seek to help those in need. 

I hope that you know you come from a long line of Bennett men that fight against internal demons which haunt them, mainly in the form of alcoholism, and that you too will bear that burden, even though you don’t deserve it. 

I hope that you will strive to be the best version of yourself every day.

I hope that you find something that lights your heart on fire and you never let that fire dwindle. 

I hope that you realize the importance of connection with other humans and how valuable those connections can and will be to your life. 

I hope that you understand you are allowed to cry. 

I hope that you know what makes a man is the confidence to be yourself and nothing else.

I hope that you have a bond with your big sister that no one can touch.

I hope that you tell your mother every day that you love her.

I hope that you love the water like I do.

I also hope you love something that I don’t so I can learn what’s lovable about it.

I hope that you’re not afraid to talk to me about tough topics and you’re willing to listen to my experience even though it’s not your own.

I hope that you’re also willing to tell me when what I’m doing isn’t helping you.

I hope that you’re honest. With me. With others. But mostly with yourself.

I hope you ask yourself, and the world, questions until the day you die.

I hope that you find someone who you love wholeheartedly.

I hope that you get to experience parenthood, but also know that it’s okay if that’s not your path. I also hope you know that parenthood, and many other things, have different versions than what has been deemed “traditional.”

I hope you blaze your own trail.

I hope you love music and find the right kind for when you’re happy, sad, in love, or in mourning. 

I hope that you invest in yourself every day — psychically, mentally, emotionally, financially, and spiritually. 

I hope you know mental health is health. 

I hope you learn the values that come from team sports, but also venture out on your own private physical quests because that provides other benefits.

I hope you learn how to cook. It is a skill you need.

I hope you enjoy movies and books the same way your sister and I do.

I hope you share your own stories constantly.

I hope all these things, and a million more for you. My lessons start this week, but they will not end until I do. And while I hope to share my knowledge from the world, I expect I’ll learn much more from you, too. 

Most of all, my son, I just hope that you are happy and find purpose.

And I hope that purpose impacts other people and the world feels it.

We aren’t here that long, as humans, but our legacies can be.

Leave the one that only you can leave.

And enjoy the fireworks on your birthday each year.

Love, Dad

Rain Bennett is a two-time Emmy-nominated filmmaker, writer, and competitive storyteller with over a decade of experience producing documentary films that focus on health and wellness. His mission is simple: to make the world happier and healthier by sharing stories of change.

You can read the rest of “Right as Rain” here, and check back every Wednesday on Chapelboro for a new column! 

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